Photo Albums

Let's get the expected 'magnificent mountain view taken at 10,000 feet' out of the way. Been there done that. Although this picture was taken at Deer Valley, it is not my 'D'. Utah displays stunning geology.

The ski area is renowned for its customer service.

The contrast to other local ski areas is vastly entertaining. When we were skiing at Park City, walkways to the on-mountain restaurants were not shoveled. Ramps off the lifts were sheets of untended ice. Grooming was skied off steeper slopes early, revealing wind-scoured ice under the steep 'signature' slopes. It is all part of the ski adventure, until you buy a lift ticket at Deer Valley. THEN, you understand customer service.

The first picture is the slope from the base area to the lift. Snow accumulation makes for the literal slippery slope. The man in green wields a hedge trimmer, and makes a stairway to heaven. The walk to the lift (in ski boots, no ankle flexion, and carrying 10 pounds of skis and poles) morphs to simple. And then, the casual skier catches the artist at work. One can only smile when the steps are joined with a happy face carved by Mr. Green.

Winter. It is a season of monochrome landscapes and muscular skies. The tempests rage unchecked, strange energies unleashed. (Yesterday, in Massachusetts, we had rain, snow, thunder, blinding snow squalls, and sun.)

This is not complaint. This is only a recitation of experience, and a recognition of some of the best skiing I could imagine. It always comes encumbered with strings. This is not complaint.

Our plane took off from Denver to Aspen last week. The approach to the airport was through clouds and snow. I understood that it was a missed approach when the plane began to ascend. "Well, folks" our pilot informed, "we got to 1200 feet of the runway, with no visibility, so we are headed back to Denver."

Storms were forecast for the next 36 hours. A rapid and serendipitous alliance with the husband and wife in the seats behind us got all of us a car and driver to Snowmass.

United Airlines was worse than worthless. No voucher for alternative transportation. Empty promises of future flights were voiced. (No flights got into Aspen until 48 hours later.) We asked that our luggage come off the plane. Despite knowing WHERE it was and WHERE it should go (a carousel at the airport like any other flight? No.) United lost our bags forever. We found them after the second trip back to the airport because our seat mates had spotted the bags and called to alert us. The United Airlines website still has no idea where the luggage is.

I never say anything like, "How can this get WORSE?". I do not tempt the gods. This is not complaint.

We had wonderful camaraderie during the drive to the hotel. I was reminded, yet again, of the importance of networks and alliances.

There were powder days. Epic powder, past mid-shin, pushed up over our knees as we whooped down the mountain. I yipped in glee. My howls were echoed by others who understood and joined in voice.

Bluebird days, swooping down exquisite, pillowed surfaces. One recognizes the grace of being alive and surefooted.

Gentle, soft, drifting flakes, eddying on the capricious wind, swirling and laughing along with us. Branches hold heavier loads than are possible, then release the snow with soft *thops* as wind and gravity play amongst them. I tried to capture pictures of this. I could not.

I brought five WIPs. Airplane knitting, conference knitting, apres-ski knitting, and still, I brought too many. I made lots of progress on many things, and have no FOs.

The colorwork required too much dexterity from muscles that had grown weary in other pursuits. The Chevron scarf was on a needle too small, and needs to be frogged.

The Whippletree Yarn Shop in Woodstock, VT had mill-spun llama yarn two years ago. Mr. Etherknitter chose his colors: cafe au lait, and cappuchino. I swatched multiple stitch patterns (five?). They all dealt poorly with switching colors. Ruth suggested mistake rib, and it was magic. I started with 19 rows, and am increasing each band by 2 additional rows. It is a soft, sumptuous bit of knitting.

It is a coincidence that this project also came from the Whippletree Shop. It is Green Mountain Spinnery's Ivy Hat pattern from 1982. Classic Elite Renaissance, two inches of ribbing then folded up for a total of four inches, cable pattern x remaining yarn plus 13 decrease rows. I'm already beginning to sweat the yarn remaining.

The Noro sock is at the heelflap stage. I switched from 1's back to 0's, and can barely see the fluffy stitches on tiny needles. This was not good conference knitting. I opted to not attempt bringing metal dpns onto the plane. It isn't even good car knitting at this point.

This is a glimpse of a Bernini statue at the Vatican, restored by Mr. Etherknitter's Roman cousins.

They were very sniffy about other art restorers' techniques. We had just been to the Galleria Borghese. Canova's statue of Napoleon's sister, Paolina, had been 'over-restored', according to the cousins. There is a certain amount of surface dirt that can be removed before the 'life of the stone' is affected. If the pores of the marble are visible, and if the surface looks chalky, without luminescence, the stone has been stripped too far.

Bernini lived a very long time for the time - 82 years. He was remarkably productive. On my life list is a trip to Italy to track down every Bernini statue in public exhibit. His work is stunning. It is easy to forget that you are looking at marble when you can see the indentations in the thigh of one statue from the fingers of the second figure (Pluto and Persephone).